Don't Let The Cruel World Change You
by Shelby Gander
Summary: It is no secret that You Know Who hates all Muggles and all they associate with. Perhaps there is a deeper reason for his hatred than simply being superficial. Could it all be because of Olive McRidder? Rated M for Language and Sexuality.
1. Chapter 1

Olive McRidder believed that she was a completely ordinary five-year-old, apart from the fact that she was now an orphan. Olive wasn't there when her parents had died when their home caught fire, and in fact it hadn't totally set into her young mind. Death wasn't something she had yet learned to fear.

It was raining outside, as she could tell from the window of the automobile that she was riding in. Olive was excited to be traveling all by herself, even though she didn't particularly know where she was going. Olive's nanny had come into her bedroom; face stained with tears, and explained to Olive that she had to pack up all her things at once. Being an obedient child, Olive did as she was told at once without any questions.

The windows had begun to fog over and, as it had been Olive's favorite thing to do when any glass did such, she began to draw patterns on the glass. After spotting her in the rear view mirror the driver cleared his throat and spoke rudely. "Stop drawing on the windows."

Olive sighed and leaned back against the red velvet bench seat and began to stare at the distant outline of buildings that were barely visible through the wet rain that had been falling against them. Olive hated the rain, but she was grateful that this hadn't been a thunderstorm, because that had been what she had feared most of all.

Olive had decided that she didn't want to put the photograph of her parents that she had been holding in the trunk with her things, insisting that her parents wouldn't have been comfortable crammed in wit all her clothes and books. No one argued with her, the all just gave her sorry looks that she didn't comprehend.

Looking down at the photograph she saw the face of two familiar people. Her mother was tall with the same long and curly dark mahogany hair as her own and the same large expressive chocolate eyes. Everyone had always cooed that she had looked so much like her mother.

Olive's father was short and plump with blonde hair and a very large dark colored mustache. Olive had always laughed at her father's appearance, insisting that the way the mustache curled made him always look like he was smiling. There was an emptiness in her chest now when looking upon them that she didn't quite understand.

The car had eventually lulled to a stop along the street corner. The driver did not bother to get out to offer the young girl any assistance or even a dry umbrella. He spoke curtly. "The orphanage is right down this lane. Wool's."

It took Olive a moment of squinting through the window before she was able to even see to the end of the lane. The building there was squished between two other wrap around buildings. The sign had hung crooked as if it had been broken off.

Olive fumbled with the door handle and eventually threw the heavy door open, wrestling herself out of the car and her trunk right behind her. Olive made sure to tuck her parent's photo deep into her wool jacket so as it would not get drenched.

Olive found that she had quite some trouble dragging along the trunk, as it had been much heavier than she had remembered it being when she had put it in the car. That could have probably been explained by the fact that she had been given some assistance. Now she was all alone.

By the time she had reached the entry path to the orphanage, Olive was completely soaked from head to toe, looking like a fragile kitten. There was a lady waiting for her at the door.

The lady was older; her gray hair was pulled back into a tight and formal bun. The lady had a hooked nose like a beak and a very stern looking face to surround it. The lady looked quite scary.

Upon seeing the child all alone she scurried over to her, offering her a dry blanket in concern. It seemed the lady wasn't even talking to her; "My goodness! Did they not have an ounce of pity to spare? Not even to carry a child's trunk in the pouring rain…" The lady reached down and hoisted the trunk with ease, placing a careful hand along Olives back. "Come now, my dear. We'll get you settled in."

No sooner than she was through the door, she had been subjected to a dozen of other children's curious eyes. Clearly it wasn't often that they had received a new ward. Olive had always been a shy child, and certainly never one for attention; she could feel the color rising to her cheeks as she followed the elderly lady through the narrow halls.

Eventually the lady stopped at a door, pushing it open with difficulty as the door had gotten stuck due to its age and lack of use. "Here we are, dear. Home sweet home." The lady gave her a brief tour. "This is the wardrobe; you may hang all your belongings in here. There is a shelf up top for anything else. There is a table right there, with a drawer in the top. And of course, your bed…" Not quite knowing what else to say to the child, she spoke. "Make yourself comfortable."

As Olive walked into her new room, she didn't quite see what was so sweet about it. Olive frowned with distaste. "This isn't like my room."

The lady smiled sadly, knowing that many children so young have difficulty grasping what exactly an orphanage was. It was a pity. "I am sorry, dear, this will just have to do."

The lady turned around to leave the girl, but Olive called out tactfully, never one to be rude to those in authority. "Thank you."

The lady turned around, giving Olive a fond smile and answered her just before closing the door. "You're welcome, dearie."

Olive sighed, and turned her trunk so that it was orderly against the foot of the bed. Olive took off her soaked jacket and hung it up in the small wardrobe, removing her precious photograph carefully; setting it on the small mismatched table beside the twin sized bed. Olive had yet to have a frame for it, so it lay flat. Setting her wet body onto the springy bed, for the first time since she had received the news of her parents passing, she cried.


	2. Chapter 2

The pitter pattering of footsteps were keeping Olive awake. All of the children were meant to be asleep in this wee hour of the night. Then again, Wool's was not sufficiently staffed enough in order to keep tabs on the rules and to make sure the children stuck to them.

Olive had not once in the nearly three weeks she had been among the orphanage dared to venture out of her small room. In grief and childish expectations, she had been insistent that her parents were coming to get her from this place and to take her to some new home that they had purchased. Olive believed with her whole heart that this was not permanent. Olive was wrong.

Each day that passed had brought her soul to a deeper depth of numbness. Olive had never felt more alone in her entire life and she couldn't understand why. Didn't her parents miss her at all wherever is that they were? Olive sighed sadly and rolled over to face the ugly white bricks of the wall, growing tired of the same thoughts crossing her mind repeatedly.

Olive closed her eyes, seeking some escape from her dull surroundings. Images flashed inwardly of her eyelids; images that she had once lived through, images of her family and all that she had loved and remembered. It had seemed that now all her mind could muster to remind her was everything that would hurt her. Olive worked hard to keep the prickling tears that had grown in her large chocolate eyes from escaping; she had grown tired of crying.

Suddenly the old wooden door had slammed open and Olive shot straight up, startled and wide eyed. It was some of the children that had been rough housing in the hallway, one of them had been slammed into her door and it hadn't been sturdy enough to stand against the force.

Standing there in front of her was a young boy, perhaps only a year older than herself. He wasn't facing her, but staring at the now empty doorway with his fists clenched. The children that had been guilty of shoving him around had bolted down the hallway and out of sight, laughing the whole way.

"Fuck." The boy cursed, his mature tongue shocking Olive into gasping.

The boy had only then noticed he was not alone as the sound had made its way into his ears. He wheeled around to face the girl, glaring. "What?"

Olive stuttered, her brown eyes still fixed firmly on the stranger. "N-n-nothng."

The boy's glare didn't soften, he looked down to the door that was now hanging sloppily from its metal hinges. When he spoke, his voice was cold and bitter. He made his exit, voice ringing back towards her as he stalked away mysteriously. "Shame. Looks like you'll be making due without a door."

Olive should have hated the boy right then and there, but his strangely rude behavior had fascinated her. Olive had come from a world where everything was careful and proper, never being exposed to the opposite side of things. That boy had been so different, and different was something that had always peeked Olive's curiosity.

Olive stood up from her bed slowly, cautiously making her way to the open doorway, peeking her brown curls around the corner. The boy was nowhere in sight.

The next morning, Olive had decided that since she could have no privacy, she was now willing to make her exit into the strange world of Wool's Orphanage. Secretly, though, it was only in hopes that she would run into the swearing boy again.

All of the children had been gathered in the library. Monday's were the day for that, as she had been informed upon arrival. It was the one day she had remembered, as reading had always been her favorite activity. There were wooden signs that hung at the tops of every intersected hallways that made finding the path simple.

Olive was careful in entering the large room, already eyeing the other children cautiously. No one even bothered to look up at her; clearly the novelty of a new child had worn off. Olive let out a brief sight of relief as she made her short stroll over to the nearest bookshelf, examining their collection. Settling on a familiar children's book, Olive chose a set and began flipping through the pages. Olive had never been one to eavesdrop on other people's conversations, as it would have been rude, but the arguing that had ensued technically couldn't have been considered a private conspiring.

"Look you pesky little freak," Olive looked up to see one of the older children towering over the rude boy that she had seen the night earlier. The boy looked very angry and near to the point of explosion as the elder boy spoke to him. "I said you are in my seat."

The rude boy ignored the tormentor, going back to his thick novel as if he weren't even there. The elder boy, having no time for games, snatched the book from the boy's hands and tossed it to the side, sneering. "Fetch, bitch."

The boy opened his mouth, probably with a good adult related retort, but Olive interjected loudly before he could get the words out. "You aren't exactly being very nice." Olive made her way towards the elder boy showing no fear or apprehension. Olive carefully picked up the book he had taken from the younger boy and handed it back to him with a kind smile. The boy glared at her once again.

The elder boy laughed. "Lookie here. Tom's got himself a little girlfriend, dontcha Tom?"

Olive turned around, facing the boy snottily. "Lookie here," It was never like Olive to repeat swears, but she found it fairly appropriate for the moment. "It seems we've got a stuck up asshole, don't we Tom?" Olive had pretty well caught on that it was the boy's name.

Tom narrowed his eyes at the girl, unsure of the ground. No one had ever smiled at him here, let alone stood up for him. Tom didn't exactly know how to react.

Olive, thought, didn't take Tom's silence as a rejection. Grabbing the arm of his shirt she tugged him out of the chair. "Come on, Tom. You don't have to stay here and listen to that."

Tom, unsure of the ground he was now treading, sat up from his leather chair and jerked him arm from her grasp, still following her on his own. He had waited until they were out of the library before he had spoken to her finally. "What makes you think you can just talk to me?"

Olive shrugged, not taken aback by his outright rudeness. Giving him only a simple answer. "Because." After enduring another one of Tom's signature glares through his stony dark eyes, she held out her hand in introduction. "My name is Olive, Olive McRidder. You don't have to like me, Tom, but I want to be your friend."

Tom scoffed and strode ahead of her, somewhat shocked at her words. Little did he know that it was going to take a hell of a lot more than walking away to shake Olive off his tail.


	3. Chapter 3

The years had worn on much the same; Olive would follow Tom around loyally and Tom would pretend that he was just barely putting up with her presence. Secretly, however, Tom had grown quite friendly with the girl, growing accustomed to her bubbly personality and easy going nature. Olive was so very different from him, but it was a difference that he had found to be refreshing.

Olive had not been the only one to notice the peculiar things that Tom was able to do, though she was the only one who had never been a victim of his evil antics. Tom had done everything from causing children's sock to spontaneously combust, or turning their skin odd colors when they had gotten on his nerves. The worst thing of all that Tom had done was turn Mark's bed into a pool of water while he was sleeping. Mark had nearly drowned to death before anyone had rushed in to save him.

Tom was forced into a month of solitude for that act, though he always seemed to have a way of disappearing under the noses of those in charge. Tom knew nothing of obeying the rules, only caring to have everything his way. By the time that Tom had turned eleven, everyone at Wool's had grown to fear him with a passion; everyone except for Olive.

It was summer time, and while most of the children had taken to the outdoor activities, Olive and Tom were seated inside. Olive was chatting away happily with him while he stared absentmindedly at his half eaten plate of food. The gray haired lady that Olive had first met on her arrival here had grown much older looking as the years passed; she had walked with a cane now. The lady came over and addressed Tom with the news. "Tom, someone is here to see you."

Tom had rarely gotten visitors; in fact, any of the children had rarely ever been visited by those on the outside. Tom, of all the children, was mostly seen by doctors and priests because the staff here had insisted that Tom Riddle was possessed or out of his mind. Tom growled at the announcement, clearly thinking of all his experience. "I don't wish for any visitors. Send them away."

The lady protested firmly. "He says that it is crucial that he speaks with you, it is about.."

Tom stood up, voice heated and fists clenched. "I don't give a fuck what it is about. I said no."

Olive tugged on Tom's arm and he turned his face back to her, she nodded in the direction as an old, bearded man approached the table where they had been sitting. As soon as the man had reached the boy, he allowed the lady to leave, and opened his mouth to speak to Tom. His voice was very careful and kind. "Hello Tom."

Tom said nothing to the man, his dark eyes steely.

The man cleared his throat and continued. "My name is Professor Albus Dumbledore, and I have come to speak with you about what it is you can do." Albus made a gesture as if to invite Tom so they could speak in private, away from Olive's ears. "May I have a moment?"

Tom sat back down firmly, kicking out an open chair. His voice was cold, and he prepared himself for what he had heard a million times before. "Whatever it is you have to tell me, sir, you can do so right here. I'll tell her as soon as you're gone anyways."

Olive eyed the old man in wonder; he had seemed so old, but still in such great youth. His gray beard and hair had reached all the way down his back and his bright blue eyes were decorated with half-moon glasses. Olive smiled at the man politely.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" Albus asked the girl.

Olive shook her head and he took the seat. Albus cleared his throat once more and spoke to Tom in a business like tone. "Tom, do you know why I have come to speak with you?"

Tom's voice was dull, repeating what he had explained to countless doctors before. "Because I can make things happen. I can do terrible things, unexplainable things."

"Exactly, though I wouldn't call them terrible, Tom." Albus continued, still being very kind. "I have come to see you from a school. Hogwarts is a place where children like you are schooled and trained in the magical arts so as to better control your ability."

"You mean a hospital." Tom interjected bitterly. "A place to 'make me better'."

"Despite what other people have told you, Tom, you are not the only one who can do these things." Albus explained gently. "There are hundreds of children, all over the country like you. I, too, am like you."

"Prove it." Tom spat.

Albus blinked, and just then two silver ribbons had created perfect bows in Olive's hair. Olive gasped in amazement. Tom held back a strange wave of anger at the man who using magic on her. Albus continued, "I have brought you a letter, Tom, explaining the school and the supply list." Albus had stood up, preparing his exit. As he left the room, he turned in goodbye. "I am looking forward to teaching you, Tom. You won't regret it."

As soon as the man had left, Tom glared at the empty space. "Loony old bastard."

"I thought he was nice." Olive said simply, turning her attention back to her food. "Are you going to open that letter?"

"No." Tom said simply. "I'm not going."

Olive frowned. "Why not?"

"Because, Olive, that man is fucking insane." Tom said it as if it were plain as day.

Olive complained, pointing out the obvious. "And everyone else says that you are insane, too, Tom, but you aren't. If I were invited to go to a school with a bunch of cool kids like you, I'd go."

"That's because you aren't like this, Olive. You can't do the things I do." Tom answered bitterly, his cold stare turned on her.

"I don't see anything bad about it." Olive shrugged. "It hasn't hurt me."

Tom didn't say anything, because that would have required admitting to her that she didn't bother him or that she was his friend. Tom stood up, threw away his food, and stalked off to his room.


	4. Chapter 4

Olive had never felt more alone. With Tom spending most of the years that passed away, Olive had begun spending more and more time on her own. Once a week, Olive would send Tom a letter and wait for his replies. The letters always came on time, but they had always been very brief and curt on his end.

Tom had just ended his sixth year, and as always, Olive had made her way to Kings Cross Station to meet her best friend once more. Tom had made many friends at Hogwarts, and that had been something that pained her. It seemed that she was fitting in less and less in his life.

Whenever Tom was away, his entire personality changed. Olive had noticed that he would become cruel and cold while he was among his kind. It was something that she had always worried about in the back of her mind. With all the things that Tom had ever done in her presence, nothing had scared her more than the things he would tell her he had done when he was away.

In his first few years of attending Hogwarts, Tom didn't mind Olive showing up and waiting for him on the platform of nine and three quarters. However, in his fourth year he had told her that she was no longer allowed to be seen with him. Now, Olive was told that she was to wait in the automobile outside the station, around the corner. Although Olive was hurt by the instructions, she obeyed kindly. She would have rather had to wait around the corner than all the way back at Wool's.

The same minute as always, the car door swung open and Tom, who had been wearing his black cloak, slid into the car next to her. Olive had given him a kind smile, honestly glad to see him once again. "It is nice to see you again, Tom. You look well."

Tom grunted. Over the years Olive had never grown offended at his naturally bored demeanor or his short answers. It was just how Tom was.

` They had both grown up; and had both grown into two beautiful people. Tom's dark hair was worn longer and messy and it complemented his dark brown eyes and lighter olive skin. Olive had let her wavy hair grow out and her face mature; Olive had a natural beauty that most girls could only dream of trying to achieve.

It wasn't merely their appearance that had changed, their relationship had too. Tom had grown more distant to his childhood friend, while Olive had only grown more attached to the boy she had always cared for. It was destined for tragedy, but Olive didn't care.

Olive had dressed up for this occasion in a simple attempt to catch Tom's eye. She had spent an hour and a half getting her hair to lay the right way and had saved up all year for the black and emerald pencil dress and black pumps that she was wearing. Sadly, Tom didn't even give it a second look.

Olive had noticed that Tom was deep in thought and spoke. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Tom answered plainly.

"I-I've missed you." Olive said nervously.

Tom scoffed cockily. "Shit, Olive. You always say that."

Olive laughed. "You act like it's a bad thing, Tom. It isn't terrible for someone to miss you."

Tom didn't say anything, going back to his thoughts. Tom had learned a lot in his sixth year, and a lot of fulfill the power hungry plans that he had been drawing up in his mind, unknown to his young and naive friend. There was no way that he could have shared those ideas with her, as they would have broken her fragile and innocent heart.

The day wore on and Olive had spent it loyally at Tom's side, though there was something more gone from him now, and it brought her fragile heart pain. Tom was grown, once again, cold by his absence and she had missed that little bit of him so much more than she realized.

It had been a rainy day, and Olive had originally planned a day at the park for the two of them, but those plans had been spoiled. It was only allowing her mood to make a turn for the worst. Tom didn't really seem to care about her sorrows, only being selfish as to consider only for his own.

Night approached and the weather had gone bad. Olive laid in her bed, half hidden under the blankets, terrified of the booming thunder that shook the walls around her. With one loud crack, she leapt from the bed and traveled the familiar path to Tom's bedroom. Tom, knowing that it was likely that such an event would happen, had left his door open and was awake when her terrified eyes glowed through the doorway.

"Again?" Tom asked haughtily.

Olive only nodded, taking it as an invitation in, and crawled into his small bed, making herself comfortable under the blankets. Tom stood up and closed the door so that none of the other children could see in nosily. "Are you ever going to grow out of this, Olive? You're acting like a baby."

Olive didn't care that he had just insulted her, as soon as he had gotten back into the bed; she had curled herself against him. Instantaneously she had felt safe and fully protected as he wrapped his arms around her carefully. This event had been taking place in all the years that the two had known each other, and there had been nothing strange about tonight.

Olive was desperate to escape the monotony of their relationship, which had now become merely one-sided affections. Olive didn't know the depth of Tom's caring towards her, and she certainly didn't know that he too had felt much the same as she did.

All it took was one simple press of her soft lips to his shoulder for Tom's thoughts to begin to swirl. Olive could feel a rumbling, seductive growl rumble through his chest and out of his mouth. Swallowing hard, he spoke. "What are you going?"

Olive pulled away and looked him straight in the eyes, pleading and desperate. "Just kiss me, Tom. Please. Just kiss me."

Tom gave in almost instantly. His lips slammed against hers greedily and full of hunger that he didn't know that he had within him. Tom felt his pants growing tight as her lips matched his urgency. He had never expected this from the innocent Olive.

Rolling over on top of her, Tom had begun to roughly slide his hands over her now womanly figure. He had never really seen before then just how beautiful she had been. Tom wrapped his arms around her slender waist, and Olive arched her body into his with a gasp that sent Tom over the edge.

Tom didn't even bother messing with the buttons on the front of Olive's night dress; he simply tore it off of her in two pieces. The fact that she wasn't wearing any underclothes had spared him the extra effort. Olive was already sliding his pants off of him, biting on her bottom lip in anticipation as Tom appraised her bare body.

Tom pressed another ravenous kiss on her lips before speaking a warning. "I don't want a relationship, Olive. I won't make you any promises."

Olive kissed back, sealing the deal with desperation. "I'm not asking for any."

With the permission being given, Tom trailed his kisses all the way down her body before diving his tongue deep inside of her. Olive moaned from the sudden wave of pleasure and her legs wrapped themselves around his neck and her fingers tore into his dark hair.

Tom smirked when he was finished and came back to her mouth, placing a teasing kiss. Only when he was about the thrust himself into her, did he deepen the kiss to soften her shriek of pain. Tom didn't even bother asking her if she was okay, he simply moved his body against her own, moving hard and fast, diving deeper with each thrust. Tom had wanted this, and he wasn't sure how the hell he had managed to control himself for this long. Olive had been the most sexually appealing woman he had ever known and she had always been right there under his nose.

Olive and Tom had both reached the end together, and Tom collapsed right beside her, pulling her nude body back against him gently. Tom placed one final, innocent kiss on the top of her head as he had felt her body relax.

Olive could help the words that had come out of her mouth next; she had grown tired of pretending that Tom was only a friend to her. "I love you, Tom."

The only answer Tom gave his new toy was another soft kiss.


	5. Epilogue

Dumbledore had closed his mouth as if the story were over.

"But, sir," Harry asked, "What happened to her?"

Dumbledore sighed, peering over his half-moon spectacles at Harry. "Exactly what was destined too, I suppose." Dumbledore took a breath before continuing to explain. "Olive, and her son, were killed two years later by Tom, who had now named himself, Lord Voldemort."

"Her son?" Harry asked, amazed.

"Yes," Dumbledore confirmed. "Tom Riddle had bore a son with Olive, only he had never known of that fact. Olive had failed to tell him that she was even pregnant with their child."

"I don't understand." Harry confessed, sinking deeper into the chair in front of the Head Master's grand wooden desk. "Why wouldn't she had told him?"

"We are make decisions, Harry, sometimes thinking that they are what is best for the people we love. Olive had not wished to hold Tom back to her, as he had said before; he wasn't going to make any promises or commitments. Olive had believed that raising their son on her own was simply what life had in store for her." Dumbledore explained patiently.

"Why did he kill them?" Harry asked finally. "Why did he kill his own son?"

"Think about it, Harry," Dumbledore prodded, "Tom Riddle returns two years later; and all his rage allows him to see is _his _Olive with a child. Tom had not even given pause to put the timeline together, he acted on rage."

Harry took a breath, thinking it all over. "Sir?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Do you think it would have changed him? Had he known that he had a family, a son, do you believe that he would have turned out different?" Harry seemed to catch the Professors point clearly in those questions.

Dumbledore smiled gently. "It is difficult to say, and I would like to assure you that it would have. However, Tom Riddle had changed and Tom wasn't the same man that Olive had fallen in love with, therefore it would have been impossible to have predicted where their story would have ended. If you are asking my opinion though, Harry, I had seen in the brief moments that Tom had spoken of her, or of my first visit to Wool's, something inside of Tom that I had never seen anywhere else. I believe that Olive changed him, or a part of him.

"I believe that what Tom had perceived to be Olive's betrayal, had been a sort of final factor in becoming Lord Voldemort. It was the one thing that pushed him completely over the edge. Had he paused for her to explain to him, perhaps one more moment, the world as we know it now could possibly be completely different. I have a letter here, Harry. It was Olive's final letter to Tom in his last year here at Hogwarts." Dumbledore then opened the drawer of his desk, handing on old piece of parchment to the boy, watching carefully as Harry read the letter to himself.

_My Dearest Tom,_

_I know that by the time you receive this letter, I will be long gone and there will be no one back at Wool's to await your reply. I have loyally watched at your side for countless years now as you have slowly become what you believe, is who you are destined to be. This is something I fear that I can no longer do._

_I simply cannot understand how what you had here, more importantly what you had with me was never good enough for you. I will never understand your deep hunger for power and control, and I will certainly never understand this 'Lord Voldemort' character that you are so desperate to become._

_However, as you have pointed out, you have made me no promises and have never bound yourself to me the way I had done to you. I agreed, and I understand this. I just have one simple request in my farewell; Don't let the cruel world change you, Tom. You're too good for that._

_ Deepest Love Always,_

_ Olive McRidder_


End file.
